Crossing Lines
by storypaint
Summary: Kurt, Puck, and country music. "Actually," Kurt says, clearing his throat, "it's a very difficult song to sing. Johnny Cash used to change keys before every verse. That's why he hums in the recordings."


Title: Crossing Lines  
Length: 2237  
Prompt: Written for the Glee Fic!Battle on LJ: Puck/Kurt, Johnny Cash song for regionals, Any  
Pairing: Puck+Kurt pretty much gen/waaaaay preslash  
Other: Johnny Cash really did occasionally perform this song as a duet with his wife; this is the recording I listened to about a million times while writing this. Also. This is a ONESHOT. Really. I promise.

* * *

"Hummel knows Cash?" Puck says, lifting his eyebrows. Kurt crosses his arms and glares a little.

Because Mr. Schuester is the king of bad song choices, in most of the Glee Club's opinions, he insists they need to do something country for regionals, for "variety's sake." And "Last Name" is out, without April around, so they need something else.

But no one in the Glee Club listens to country music; this might be Ohio but that's not even cool there. They sit around and brainstorm for a bit before Puck looks up and says, "Walk the Line." He strums a few lines on his guitar.

"Isn't that song pretty simplistic?" Rachel begins to protest.

"Actually," Kurt says, clearing his throat, "it's a very difficult song to sing. Johnny Cash used to change keys before every verse. That's why he hums in the recordings."

"Hummel knows Cash?" Puck says, lifting his eyebrows. Kurt crosses his arms and glares a little.

"My dad listens to country music," he answers.

"Great idea!" Mr. Schuester intervenes. "Puck, why don't you work something up for us and we'll see how it goes next rehearsal?"

Puck shrugs. "Okay."

After practice, there's a hand heavy on Kurt's shoulder. He's only paused at his locker for a moment to pick up his slushied t-shirt from this morning, but he looks up into Puck's face and thinks that he probably should have brought another change. Puck's lips are pursed with something resembling annoyance.

"Why'd you have to say that?" he growls. Kurt slams his locker and swallows, trying not to be intimidated. It's not easy. Even though he sees Puck all the time in Glee and in football, it never gets easier. Fear clenches the bottom of his stomach and makes his voice go high every time that they're alone. He's not going to show it though. He looks up at Puck and smiles insolently.

"Why'd I say what, you gorilla?"

"That thing about the key changes," Puck answers, leaning back against the lockers. "I didn't know there were fucking key changes. I sing by ear. You fucked me over, Hummel."

Kurt blinks. It really wasn't been his intention to upset Puck; he was more focused on proving Rachel wrong.

"Well, if you sing by ear, then you should get the key changes just fine," he points out.

"You're going to make sure. I'm not going to make a fool of myself in front of the stupid Glee Club," Puck says, grabbing Kurt by his fashionable collar and dragging him out to his vehicle. Kurt looks at the rusty pickup truck with distaste, wrinkling his nose, as Puck unlocks the door and gets in. He leans over to unlock the passenger door.

Through the window, he says, "What, do you expect me to get the door for you? Stop being a girl and get in."

Kurt has a rule about getting into vehicles with people who hate him. He doesn't do it. But Puck just keeps staring so Kurt quietly texts Mercedes, Tina, and Brittany and gets into the truck. That way they'll know where to find his body if he doesn't make it home. He reaches up for the seatbelt absently and doesn't find one.

"Even someone with as thick of a head as you have will die in a head-on collision," he says primly. Puck rolls his eyes.

"Fine. You're a small guy, sit in the middle seat." He reaches down and throws the seatbelt at Kurt. "You tell anybody and we're throwing you in the Porta-Potties every day until graduation."

"Ah, okay," Kurt answers, caught off-guard. He shifts closer to Puck, body language guarded, and makes sure not to brush the football player when he settles himself into the middle seat. This isn't an easy task, but he rests both feet on the passenger side and sits a little sideways. Puck just grunts and drives. He doesn't bother with his own seatbelt and Kurt doesn't say anything.

Puck's house is really blue and whoever did their interior decorating needs to be shot, in Kurt's opinion, except that probably Puck's mother did it, and that woman deserves a medal for not murdering her awful offspring. Though Kurt might give her one even if she had, if he is honest with himself. He's lost way too much expensive clothing at Puck's expense, and probably several years off the end of his life due to trauma.

"My mom won't be home until five. If you're not gone by then she'll make you stay for dinner," Puck says gruffly. He leads the way up the stairs, guitar in hand, and when Kurt steps into his bedroom, he's already fiddling with iTunes, looking for the song.

Puck's room is a mess. Kurt stands at the threshold, his phone vibrating in his pocket. He's already reassured the girls that he is not (1) insane or (2) dead yet, but understandably they worry about him, even Brittany, who is usually too preoccupied with Santana or too dull to put two and two together.

The problem here is that there is nowhere to sit except at Puck's desk or on his bed, and Puck is sitting at his computer. So Kurt crosses the room, feeling like he's navigating a jungle of neglected sports equipment and old plates. Puck's bed is made, too neatly for it to have been done by him, and he sits down on the edge of the blue comforter and waits.

"I am not going to kick your ass, Hummel, so quit looking like I ran over your kitty," Puck said, glancing over at the bed, and before Kurt can reply, Puck hits the play button and Johnny Cash blares out of his speakers. Puck's sound is not set up for country music, and the bass blares incongruously around Cash's dry voice.

Kurt shuts his eyes and listens. The second time that the song plays, Puck joins in. He's good at singing, even if he just does it by ear. And he does the key-change humming. He's a little flat in the second verse and a little sharp in the third. It won't be hard to fix.

"Guitar?" Kurt says. Puck lifts his eyebrows again, but he rolls the chair around and hands it to Kurt. Kurt leans over it, his pale fingers caressing the strings, and the uneasiness with which he had followed Puck dissolved.

"Your guitar is out of tune," he says first. Puck rummages through one of the piles of clothing on his floor and extracts a tuner. He tosses it to the other boy and Kurt catches it easily, and uses it.

"I didn't know you played guitar," Puck says, almost suspicious. Without looking up from his tuning, Kurt answers.

"Any Philistine can play the guitar at least a little. You learn three chords and you're Carlos Santana. You can actually play, though, I give you props for that."

"I used to skip Temple and go hang out with the high-schoolers who smoked behind the building. One of them taught me," Puck answers.

Kurt blinks. "Okay," he says, drawing the word out. "You'll have to think about this, because there's no way I can sing in your range. You were flat-- below key in the second verse. Like this."

He strums the guitar and sings the words in high, clear tones. He has a good voice, Puck has to acknowledge, even if it is a girl's voice. He tries to match Kurt's tones, his voice lower, and when they finish, Kurt nods a little.

"Better. Let's do it again."

His voice is a command. He's set aside his worry for now. If Puck fails at singing this song, it will now be his fault, and whatever Kurt Hummel does, he wants to be a success at it. It's been nearly half an hour, anyway, and Puck hasn't insulted him once. It's kind of nice.

Puck drives him back to his car around four-thirty. They've fixed most of his pitch problems and Kurt is pretty good at melding his voice around Puck's, bright and encouraging. When he gets home, Puck looks up Youtube videos and finds one of Johnny Cash singing the song as a duet with his wife. It reminds him of the way that he and Kurt sung that afternoon.

So the next day, he buys a grape slush and plasters the boy with it. At practice, he sings "Walk the Line" well enough that Mr. Schuester gives him the solo.

"What is going on with you and Puck?" Mercedes whispers in Kurt's ear while the mohawked kid is singing. Kurt just shakes his head. He doesn't know what to tell her, and really he's full of a certain hopeless rage at himself. He doesn't know why he bothered wasting his afternoon with the jerk when obviously Puck didn't appreciate it. He is not going to get any of the football players to like him, no matter what he does, so why bother trying?

"He ruined your new scarf," Mercedes whispers persistently.

"I am aware, Mercedes," he hisses back, and then Mr. Schuester glances up at them, so they have to be silent.

Kurt is never the last to leave; that honor is always reserved for Rachel. But he practically flies out of the classroom when Mr. Schuester lets them go, and he's halfway out the door before Puck catches up with him.

"Hey! Hey! Hummel!"

"Yes?" Kurt answers frostily.

"My truck is locked, you have to wait."

Kurt stops, crossing his arms and planting his feet widely. "Noah Puckermann, if you are trying to seduce me, you are doing a terrible job of it."

Puck honestly gapes. Kurt doesn't back down. He has chosen the words most likely to end this odd partnership as swiftly as possible, and even if he gets tossed in the garbage every day for the rest of his high school career, it's better than spending time with someone who can only consider him a human being when he's doing him a favor.

"And if you're just trying to be my friend, or my Glee Club buddy, you are failing at that too. That was a very nice scarf you murdered this morning, and now I'm getting a pimple. Probably from stress. So leave me ialone/i, Noah."

"Um," Puck says. He doesn't move as Kurt stalks past him, flipping his hair, which is a move that would really work better if he was wearing his Hairography wig, but no time for regrets now. He unlocks his car without suffering any abuse, and drives home alone.

And when he finds himself humming "Walk the Line" on the drive, he puts in his Wicked soundtrack and blows through "Defying Gravity." He's halfway through his algebra homework and humming "Mr. Cellophane" when there's a knock at the door. More of a pounding, really.

He always looks before he opens the door, and when he sees Puck on his front porch, he steps back with a strangled sort of yelp. The courage that he'd had only a little while before is now dissolving into memories of what has been done to himself and his house and his father. Maybe Puck is the one behind the anonymous phone calls. He wouldn't put it past him.

"Hummel! Seriously, you asshole, answer the door."

Kurt makes sure that the chain is still locked before he cracks the door open.

"What do you want? Where's the rest of the crew?" he asks warily. Puck always seems to be more amused when he has an audience to his crimes.

"What? No, I'm not here to beat you up. I just want your help with that stupid song. My mom loves Johnny Cash, okay, and she practically had a fucking heart attack when I said I might get lead."

"I have no reason to help you," Kurt answers snidely, beginning to slide the door shut.

"Regionals," Puck says, sticking his gigantic foot in the gap. He can't break the chain (Kurt hopes), but Kurt can't close the door, either.

"Don't you want to win? I thought Glee was your, like, your life."

"Of course I do," Kurt answers. "But not like this. I have more self-esteem than this. Come back when you grow up, Noah."

He slams the door as well as he can on Puck's foot and Puck swears and withdraws. Kurt shuts and locks the door pointedly. Puck stands around on the porch for a little while before he finally leaves.

The next day at school there is a card in Kurt's locker, a pink one with lacy edges and Hallmark calligraphy.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Puck scribbled on the inside. "Hope this chick card makes up for it. You tell anyone and I'll throw eggs at your house." There's a word scratched out at the end of that sentence, and Kurt suspects that word to be "again," but he's not surprised.

So he goes up to Puck between third and fourth period, in the middle of the hallway where anyone can see him, and his knees are shaking but hopefully his designer jeans are hiding that.

"I have a piano at home. It will be easier to teach you using that," he says, and then whirls around on one foot and stalks off to class.

He can hear football players snickering behind him, but Puck calls out, "Four o'clock, Hummel, and no showtunes on the radio."

Kurt nods without turning around. He smiles just a little to himself.

And so they walk the line.


End file.
